As notions, meteors of the brain; Far from my theme, from method far, Conveyed in Venus' flying car, I go compelled by feathered steeds, That scorn the rein when Delia leads. No daub of elegiac strain 144 150 160 170 With necklace bells in treble bark; Come, Nymph, with rural honours dress'd, With charms untarnished, innocence Which don't with giggling muscles dwell; And their first league again take And morals pure, in duty bound, And plays with curls, instead of leaves: 176 190 200 And flowers lean forward from their seats O kindly view our lettered strife, What Virtue is we judge by you; 209 220 230 240 Father! forgive, thus far I stray, If 241 250 |